It was odd to see a woman—an older, dried-out woman—having the same gestures as his lover. Forest played with his lower lip when thinking, and sometimes when he needed time to gather his words, his fingers tapped along the table, much like Ginger was doing at that moment. And while the brittleness in her son was evident in Ginger, there was also a cloying, manipulative air about her, as if she were waiting for the chance to gut the person next to her because she knew the going rate for a black-market kidney.
He couldn’t imagine having the reaching, grasping woman as a mother, and Connor made a mental note to send Brigid flowers or chocolates as soon as he could. Still, she was fascinating to watch, her behavior going from outraged to submissive, oftentimes within the space of a second. One thing was for certain, Ginger had a loose grasp on reality and an even looser grasp on the truth, because Kiki and Duarte kept having to circle around her and hammer at her story, breaking apart every supposed fact she trotted out.
They were taking a break in the actual questioning. Instead, Duarte was pulling out photo after photo of the crime scene, asking Ginger to take a good look at what was going on in the main room when she supposedly was helping her son move his shop’s equipment. Ginger looked at the pictures with an impassive stare, nothing registering on her face as photo after photo was placed on the table.
She asked to go to the bathroom, and the partners conversed a bit. It was an old trick used by people familiar with being dragged in by the cops. Still, Kiki motioned for Ginger to stand up, and there was a mild grumbling about being shackled up again, but the woman acquiesced. Duarte was left cooling his heels, and the brothers returned to their conversation.
“Your guy came out surprisingly well, considering he crawled out of that,” Kane said softly. “And that’s not something I thought I’d ever say in my lifetime. How’re you doing with that? The gay thing.”
“We’re going to do this here?” Con asked, sliding a look at his brother.
“Might as well. They’re sitting down for a game of let’s play shake the lying witness right now,” Kane remarked. “Really, just quick. Tell me how you’re doing, and I’ll leave it be for a bit.”
“I’m doing—okay,” he admitted slowly. “It’s kind of a punch to the teeth sometimes, but honestly, I fucking can’t imagine him not being there. He feels good—feels right, even. I love him. It isn’t even a question—between us, it just is. I don’t know if I can explain it.”
“You don’t have to. I know exactly what you mean.”
“Yeah,” Connor murmured, thinking of how Kane’s eyes lit up when Miki walked into the room. “You do.”
“People giving you shit at work?” Kane studied his brother. “You giving yourself shit too?”
“Little of both.” It was hard to admit, but Connor owned up to the qualms eating at the edges of his belly. “Some asshole put a pair of panties in my locker. Shoved them through the slats but wasn’t man enough to come confront me.”
“Asshole is right.”
“Gotta tell you, brother.” Connor turned and leaned his shoulder against the glass, crossing his arms over his chest. “It hurt a bit. I don’t know who did it. I told my team directly. They’re all fine with it, but someone on the squad’s got some shit. I don’t want to have to worry about who’s got my back when I’m going in under fire.”
“And you can’t say shit without looking like some whiny bitch,” Kane snorted, then grew serious. “How are you doing with it?”
“I talk a lot to God,” he admitted. “I make deals, mostly. Begging him to let me have patience. To help me convince Forest we’re good together. We’ve gotten to be good friends, me and God. It feels like it happened so fast, and Forest—God, he needs to be loved. I worry I’ve forced him into this, but when he looks at me, I can see he cares—shit, I make him smile. I don’t think he’s smiled a lot before. He’s under my skin, K, and I’m just going to run with it. Put my arms around him and never let go.”
“You’ve known him for months now. Not that quick, really. Gotta admit, you seemed to have gotten the easier one,” Kane teased. “Less wild than mine.”
“Miki’d chew your face off if you piss him off,” he grunted. “Forest’s more… mellow. He’s not a pushover, but more like he’d rather flow around things. Honestly, that woman in there didn’t do him any fucking favors, but he’s—strong. In his own way. He’s more like water—most of the time, like a gentle rain, but then when pushed, it’s like drinking from a fire hose. Tear your lips off if you get too close.”
“Mum adores him.” Kane laughed. “Said she was finally glad she got a son-in-law in her corner instead of Da’s. You’d think it was a competition or something.”
“Hard to live up to a man like Da,” Con replied gently. “Trust me. I know.”
Kiki returned with their prisoner and sat Ginger down. While they were gone, the senior inspector’d laid out all the photos he had of Collerton’s murder as well as the other victims. The table was washed in death and blood. Ginger visibly recoiled when seated in front of the collage. Duarte cleared his throat, and the Morgans’ attention snapped back to the room as Ginger’s agitation rose.